Hunger Games
by Nightmare True
Summary: A simple Hunger Games goes severely wrong when a muttation gets lose. Mitch must now stop the muttation from destroying the city in a vengeful fury. How? The muttation will only stop its rampage when it finally gets Mitch. RATED T FOR LANGUAGE, BLOOD, AND GORE!
1. Chapter 1

Hunger Games

* * *

The Broken Walls

* * *

I heft up my bow, slinging it over my shoulder. Beside me, Jerome laces his paw around an iron axe.

"Biggums, how much you got on your head?" I ask, searching through my knapsack.

Jerome swiftly pulls up his sleeve and swipes the screen, scrolling through the chat. "Uh... I don't know. The last bounty I saw before I stopped paying attention was zero."

[Flashback]

_"I wanna do a Hunger Games where we can bring our own weapons!"_

_"Okay."_

{Later}

_"So what DID you bring?"_

_"Uhm..." Momentary searching of pockets. "A pencil._"

[Flashback end]

I feel a grin blossom on my face but it quickly dissipates when another person jumps Jerome. I snarl and hurl an arrow at the man, who squeaks and leaps back only to get an axe to the back of the head. I get a foreign surge of savage pleasure when the cannon for the man booms. I sigh through my nostrils, however, and take the chain armor from the corpse before pawing through the man's bag and discovering an iron sword. I grin wickedly and tuck it into his belt before inclining my head towards the hills off in the distance and running with Jerome.

I hear a frantic beeping from my chat, so I lift my wrist and find a flashing red screen with bold white letters that scares the crap out of me: A MUTTATION IS AFTER YOU.

I must have made a muffled shrieking noise or something, because Jerome gives me an odd look and says, "You alright, Mitch?" I open my mouth to say "No way in hell, because there's a fucking mutt after me", but I indistinctly hear a familiar rumble of anger, and I hiss out between my teeth as explanation, "Mutt."

I catch sight of a large wolf-like creature in the distance, with a shaggy beard-like excess of fur near its throat, and hold in a laugh. It looks ridiculous, with its collar jingling, but I've learned not to underestimate mutts ever since one tore me apart.

"Mitch, Mitch, Mitch, Mitch, Mitch, Mitch, you're backing into the—!"

The rest of Jerome's sentence is lost in a loud exploding noise, and I realize where we are just as I'm slammed into the ground with extraordinary force. I'm lucky I realized at the last second and turned onto my shoulder, but it still hurts, so I lay there, paralyzed by pain and shock, and Jerome crouches next to me in a patch of tall grass.

"Mitch. Don't. Move," he bites out between his fangs. I try to reply with a casual response, along the lines of "I can't move anyway, it hurts to breathe at this point" but I can't even part my jaws, so I mentally berate myself for my stupidity instead. I helped design this particular arena, so I should've realized that we are at the end of the dome, and I have just hit the force field. It's a pale white, but it still takes a good eye to see the transparent wall. I know that the effects of hitting the field is paralysis and the possible risk of breaking something, and judging from the pain in my ankle, that risk has been justified.

I stare hard at the mutt. It stops at the edge of the field regarding the air, as though it can see the wall. I wouldn't be surprised, what with the muttations' enhanced field of vision, but what I don't expect is it crashing right through, leaving a mutt-shaped hole in the now-visible dome. Several tributes appear from the tree line, and using my somewhat hazy vision from the smoke, I identify the nine tributes as all but two. I make a strangled sound as I realize since the game's functions have been interrupted, the tributes who have passed will stay dead forever, stuck as a spectator. Jerome seems to have realized this as well, because he slaps a paw over his mouth, a choked gasp escaping the confines of his fangs.

He lifts me, but I shake him off, the paralysis wearing off. "Gamemaker Bajan Canadian!" I shout into the air, knowing the backup systems should be able to reboot. There's a momentary silence, then a crackling female voice says calmly, "Gamemaker Bajan Canadian logged."

"/tpall BajanCanadian!"

"Performing."

The two remaining tributes appear, looking dazed, and I nod before calling again. "/tpall hub!"

"Performing."

As the flickering dome disappears, I hear the levelheaded "Logging Gamemaker Bajan Canadian off" hitch at the end of the sentence.

[...]

Everyone in the hub server is surprised to see eleven scraggly tributes in appear in the spawn point, and even more when several start to sob quietly. I slump against one of the pillars, a choking feeling overtaking me. And then I realize I have recorded the whole thing.

My hand goes to the headphones fitted carelessly on my head. I say, in a quivering voice, "G-guys... Th-that... Just h-happened..." My hand clicks the camera off.

Jerome sits next to me, his paws shaking, his iron axe lying, forgotten, in the center.

"Oh, my Notch. Are you guys okay?" I've never been so happy to hear that voice in my life. I turn towards the voice and see the glint of amethyst and go— butter before someone glomps me. I turn on the camera again and say, with the same shaking voice despite my annoyed grunt, "H-hey, we're back, a-and hi Sky. I-I've never been so happy t-to see your ugly f-face!"

Sky frowns at the obvious stutter, but plays along anyway. "I am not ugly!" He studies himself in the camera. "In fact, I'm pretty handsome..."

I roll my eyes and say, "Y-yeah, okay, I-I'll keep that i-in mind." I fumble a bit before my fingers find the button and I click it, and as soon as they're off, I hunch into the wall with a terrified moan.

Jerome gives me a strange look, halfway between concerned and scared, and offers to remove the chain armor. I vaguely nod, and he quietly slips off the chest plate and the boots.

I don't want to be babied, especially by Jerome because of the whole #Merome thing (It's an interesting idea actually, and I ship it), but I feel so shaken that I just let him.

Sky gives me a quizzical look. "You're gonna upload that?"

I let air hiss between my teeth. "Anything to let them think I'm okay."

A sad smile. "You really care about them, don't you."

"Yeah, all through the Kick." I wince at Ty's unsympathetic tone, his cutting voice. He went through the torture of seeing his friend get banished from a group he thought he could trust. I know that even Sky's friendship with him was marred by the Kick. He was and and still is nineteen, and that incident forced him to close his heart, to refuse to make new friends for fear of losing them all over again. He, in a way, is protecting me, guarding me from the danger that I must ever do that again.

"Hold still." A quiet, albeit placid, voice interrupts me. I recognize it, first place it as warm, friendly, laughing and unable to stop. Then I'm flooded with distinct sounds of crying, of the voice, cracked and broken and defeated, then finally here. I can hear the utter terror frozen on his tongue, the sadness crippling his tone. I look up to face him and freeze.

The depression that he obviously went through has stolen much from him, from the little fat that he had (even through the cloak I can easily count his ribs) to his menacing aura (I feel almost sorry for him until I remember that I did this to him, and guilt consumes me again).

Seto's pale hand ghosts over my ankle, and I make a noise of bemusement. It doesn't hurt anymore.

The sorcerer's honey-brown eyes lock with my own hazel ones, and I can see fear in their amber depths. Then he looks away to hunch at a pillar on the opposite side.

I tap at my headset, and soon the same female voice from earlier says, "Uploading video..."

I manage to coax a small smile (more like a grimace) from somewhere deep inside me and stagger to my feet, managing to avoid Ty's hostile glare and Seto's depressed eyes as he looks down, his hood and chin-length hair falling over his face.

I shout "GAMEMAKER BAJAN CANADIAN" and everyone there stares at me like I'm nuts until the calm voice responds. "Welcome back, Sir. Gamemaker Bajan Canadian logged."

I swallow. "Tribute status on Hunger Games Arena 11."

There is a moment of silence, then the system replies: "Muttation Tribute sisispace1 untraceable. Spectator Tributes cat0922, rainbowcat1124, Toxictiger18943, MidnightDark04, invaderlime, Fallen_Snipez, endscape_9, billboy2, khorneflakes99, and Doughtnut_2391 detectable in Arena 11. Extricate?"

Hope surges into me. "Please."

There's an initial pause and a clicking sound, then a beeping. "Unable to perform task. Please, reboot server and try again."

I get the strange urge to facepalm, but resist it, instead glancing down at my wrist chat, which is sparking and obviously broken. This time I really do facepalm, and Ty gives me a strange look before disconnecting himself from the server's network system.

I yank Jerome's arm and start tapping in the chat. This is going to be a long night.

[...]

"Do you know sisispace1?"

I sigh again. "Yeah. Nice guy, pretty into video games. His name's Ross."

Jerome pulls back his lips, showing his fangs. "I knew cat0922 and Doughnut_2391. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Completely devoted."

"What were their names?"

"Eve and Hugo."

I make an attempt at humor. "Well, this is depressing."

"Tell me about it."

A voice behind us makes me start, and I whirl around, my bow drawn back. Jerome is growling in a feral way, his Betty clamped between his teeth.

Seto smiles at me, a hint of sadness dabbling in his voice. "It's terrible, isn't it? All of those people may never see their loved ones again, and this time..." His expression darkens to something resembling utter depression. "This time they can't escape."

I realize what he's talking about as he walks away. He means that they cannot suicide, nor drive themselves to hunger, any sort of death.

I wince. I hear the reference.

[...]

Eve's pale, translucent hand wraps around Hugo's.

"We're stuck here, right."

Hugo doesn't dare contradict her. She would be able to tell straightaway if he is lying. "Yeah."

Kaitlyn and Kathryn are hovering a few feet away. Kaitlyn rifles through a chest, while Kathryn taps away on her chat with amused glee on her face, placing higher and higher bounties on the heads of the other spectators.

Eve sighs, running her pale hand through her iridescent locks. Kathryn is still younger than she and Hugo, only ten years old. She doesn't understand that they will stay like this forever, unable to go back to their loved ones. Her eyes suddenly light up. "Hugo."

"What?"

"Just follow me."

She flies through the shattered remains of the barrier.

* * *

**A/N: OH MAN THIS IS SO INTENSE!**

**Me: *looks down at ground* Most of you may have noticed that I have deleted When Squids Strike.**

**Sky: WHYYYYY?**

**Me: *throws out hands for emphasis* I'M SORRY! But, you gotta understand. When Squids Strike was one of my first, most amateurish fanfictions. I couldn't keep it because it reminded me too much of stuff that is past. It reminded me just how much my writing skills were crap, and in particular it reminded me of a very successful fanfic of mine that was shut down. No questions. No PMs asking about it, please.**

**Sky: ...**

**Me: So... This fanfic is here to replace it.**

**Star-gaze, Nightmare Army... And good-night.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hunger Games

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

**Disclaimer: All YouTubers belong to themselves. MineCraft is strictly property of Mojang. This is a fan-made fiction story and I do not profit in any way, shape, or form by writing this. **

* * *

Seto sits slumped in a chair set around a long table. He does this each time, and he fights the memories that threaten to swallow him, but this is the first time I have seen what he does to himself.

"...So..." I start and look up. Seto's staring at me with the same dulled amber eyes. I try not to meet his eyes, because each time I do, I remember the coldness I felt as Sky banished him with guilty eyes, the sobs I heard as I passed his dorm room that night, and the bloodstains that began mysteriously appearing everywhere.

"So you followed me." It's a statement, not a question, so I do not bother to elaborate.

"Why?"

"I wanted to see why you looked more and more depressed each time we saw you." I bite my lip as the words tumble out, unwillingly. Seto raises his eyebrows. He's not convinced.

I roll my own and shuffle away, stumbling over something halfway to the door. I pick it up and shove it in my pocket without bothering to study it, and only after I close the door do I feel the blood on my hands. I flinch, then whip out the object, and my stomach sinks. I toss it in a nearby trashcan and quietly hope to never see it again... Blood is the last thing I want to see after the Games.

"Hey."

I jump and sigh. How they can all quietly walk up without making a sound is beyond me. "Sup, Ian. Hey, Quentin."

"Was that a knife?" Says Ian with an apprehensive glance at the door I came out of.

I nod. "Uh-huh. Don't worry, I didn't murder anyone." At the questioning raise of the eyebrows from Quentin, I roll my eyes and say, "The only people I've murdered are those in the Hunger Games." I suddenly flash back to when I killed three tributes at Arena 11. I swallow. The splatter of blood from Eve's neck. The dying gurgle of Hugo. The disappointed stare from Ross.

Suddenly, an image of some sort sticks itself in my head, and I stagger as a voice accompanies it.

"Mitch... You remember me, right...?"

I respond in my head. "Phoenix Fire."

An echoing laugh. "Real name?"

I answer automatically just as I realize who I'm talking to. "E-Eve?"

Quentin shakes me. I don't remember falling. I don't remember the mudkip catching me. "Mitch!"

I find myself in a foggy white room of sorts, sitting in empty air, right next to Eve. Hugo leans next to her, with a kind of pouty expression that seems to compliment his transparent face well.

"Welcome, Mitch."

I stare at her. She's wearing a floaty dress with drifting strands of lace connected to the silvery rings on her fingers. Hugo is wearing a suit with a green shirt underneath, and is handling a panda helmet.

A smile. "Surprised much?"

I snap my mouth shut. She doesn't need to know how much I'm shocked to sit here and just be face to face with her when I killed her, when she's supposed to be gone forever like every other dead person.

She tilts her head with a mysterious, quizzical smile on her face. "I'm not really here. I'm most likely a fragment of wishful thinking, apologies you never had the chance to speak, the guilt of being a..."

"Murderer," spits Hugo, finishing Eve's sentence for her, his dark eyes flashing.

I wince, his words cutting me to the bone. Almost like—

No. I can't think that when she's around.

"Do you want me to... Send you back?"

I nod. I realize that I haven't spoken once during the whole exchange, and I open my mouth to tell her, to say how sorry I am, how much I wish I could just take it all back—and then I'm on a cold butter floor, gasping for breath, my eyes closed. I can vaguely hear a concerned voice that I can barely discern as Jerome's. I force open my eyes. A blinding light greets me.

"Is he okay?"

"What just happened?"

"Why am I getting so many updates from MineBook?"

Why the Nether does everyone think aloud in this place?

Jason snatches up my wrist briefly. "His pulse is back to normal... What the Nether was that, Mitch? You scared us all."

I shake my head. "I... I don't know. What happened?"

I am instantly showered with information, and I barely manage to string together the pieces of the story:

I was talking to Quentin and Ian when I just suddenly stumbled. I had momentarily stabilized my balance, but then fell again and this time did nothing to steady myself. The fish caught me, but I stayed completely limp, and he had shaken me a few times before checking my pulse and to their horror, it was nonexistent. He had shouted for someone, and a ton of recruits plus Sky and Jerome had arrived just as I miraculously regained consciousness.

"The fuck man, the fuck," says Sky shakily, his eyes glinting a momentary butter under his shades. I briefly wonder why no one has ever seen his eyes, but perish the thought almost as quickly. It's unnecessary.

I run a hand through my hair. "I'll... I'll explain later. I... I gotta go."

"So help me, you're not going anywhere till the frickin' NETHER freezes over..." Jason calls after me threateningly, but his voice fades away as I sprint down the corridor towards my room.

Bolting the door behind me, I collapse back onto my bed. Heart attack? Likely. Cause? Shock of hearing the voice of a person who's supposed to be very, very dead. I consider the thought for a moment as I straighten. Did I really hear Eve? Unlikely... Another figment of my imagination, perhaps of wishful thinking as the Dream-Eve suggested.

"Mitch... Do you not trust your senses?"

I groan and flop back onto the messy bed. "Back for attention, Evie girl?"

I can distinctly hear Eve's amused chuckle. "No, Mitch. What you hear could very well be afflicting another of your friends. After all, they watched the Games, and they might not be admitting it..."

My eyes widen and I push myself up on my elbows. "What?"

I can practically HEAR Eve smile. "Oh, Mitch... Would you really tell your friends that you're hearing things and dying randomly?"

"Wait... WHAT?!"

[...]

I open my eyes to the ceiling. What a beautiful sight after blacking out. From what my scattered memory tells me, I fell unconscious after Eve began explaining. From the twilight-like atmosphere, I would guess that quite some time has passed.

I sigh. Then jump as the door bangs open.

"Sorry... I had to pick the lock... We... We all need to talk..." Stutters Sky.

Jerome grabs my arm and drags me across the hallway to the meeting room, where Seto is slumped against the table with blank eyes. I'm about to panic and yell to Jerome when suddenly, the sorcerer takes a shaky breath and starts coughing. Jerome huffs and gives me a pointed look. "Is that happening to you too?"

There's no use lying. He'll see through it right away. "Yeah. You?"

To my surprise he nods but does not speak further on the subject. Sky flops into the head chair and sighs. "No use denying it. That's happening to everyone, isn't it?"

Seto wheezes.

I gesture to him. "What he said."

Ty chews on a tangled lock of his dark hair thoughtfully, and it's then that I realize just how beat they look. I mean, I probably look bad, but some of them...

Seto's skin is paler than it used to be, and that's saying something. There are faint dark circles underneath his eyes, as though he hasn't had enough sleep, and he's trying to conceal it.

Ty's hair is clumped, and though I highly suspect he has not washed it for a while, I make no comment.

Sky himself is in a sorry state, with his twitchy frame and constant biting of his own lip. Then he begins to speak of his own experience.

[...]

Oblivious to the group of talking friends, a darker, hooded group stands outside, eavesdropping. The tallest, a female, quietly murmurs, in a deep, calm voice, "We have heard enough. Let us make our leave." She turns her head sharply toward a shorter figure, who starts, then wraps her arms around the others and suddenly, they all disappear in a shower of Ender Sparks.

The group appears on a foggy hillside. After quick inspection, it is deemed safe for conversation, and the tallest opens her mouth again.

"They were speaking of the dead, ones who were haunting them," she observes, quietly lifting her hood away from her face. It is angular, definitive, beautiful, cruel. Her long, midnight blue, wavy hair flowing down her back has been thrown free of the hood.

"I can tell they were speaking of the dead, Lunaria. What I wanted was a meal." A third form sighs, tossing her hood back, revealing a bony, but flawless, face with almond-shaped eyes. Wings are visible on her back, starting at the ridge as a pale gray, ending at the tips of the bottom feathers as a jet-black, dark gray dots mingling in the grim colors. "I can't believe I missed the chance. They had such strong souls!" She casts a reproachful glance at the rest, who say, exasperated, in unison, "YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO DRINK THE SOUL OF A LIVING PERSON, OKAY, KERES?!"

Keres takes a step back. "I know! I know! Jeb fuck, I was kidding!"

"It doesn't sound like it, Keres Nythphys," argues back a fourth girl, her hood slipping from her face, shaking her long echinacea-colored hair from the cloak. "I saw the look on your face, and holy shit, you looked like there was a feast round the table."

The cloaked, silent figure, whose height barely reaches Lunaria's eyebrows, speaks up. "Miki... Shut up."

Miki scowls, then relents. "Fine. But I wouldn't shut up if it wasn't you telling me to, Kai!"

"Cool it," murmurs Lunaria, then taps the two figures on the head. "Kurai? Kagamine? Anything to add to that?"

Kagamine sighs, her translucent form glowing in the gloom of the hill. "No. Nothing."

Kurai starts and shouts, "I CLEANED MY ROOM AND I'M DAMN PROUD OF IT!"

[...]

Sky stares at the floating figure above his head, who giggles at his dumbfounded expression. "Oh, Sky, you didn't REEEALLY expect me to stay away for long...?"

Sky gulps, and I hear Eve's voice in the corner of my mind: "That's his ghost... Her name is Kathryn..."

I clear my throat. "Name," I prompt him. He opens his mouth before I've even finished saying the word: "Kathryn."

"I'm eleven," adds Kathryn with a playful backflip in the air before pouting and plopping herself down next to Sky's chair without prior invitation. "Oh guys, not faaair~ you have to show yourselves too~" She calls, and immediately everyone stiffens. I'm puzzled until Eve whispers, "I have to show myself, gotta go!"

And above the others'—and my—heads, one by one, pale white, glowing figures appear.

Above Ty's: a pretty girl, probably around the age of thirteen, with a bored expression painted on her face. Above Ian's: a young boy with a dark streak in his lighter-colored hair. Above Quentin's: a dark-haired girl with a stormy face matching her hair. Above Jerome's: a skinny girl who looks almost exactly the same as Kathryn. Above Seto's: a tall, well-built girl, whom I find hard to believe was killed in the Hunger Games. And above mine...

"Hello, everyone. How nice to see you. It may be useful to introduce ourselves."

And that voice will soon come to annoy me.

"I'm Eve, or cat0922," says Eve helpfully.

"I'm Kaitlyn, or invaderlime," mutters the girl above Ty's head dejectedly. Her voice is soft, but carrying.

"I'm Jeff, or Fallen_Snipez," announces the boy, his chest puffing out in order to make him look tougher than he is. I stifle a snort.

"I'm Nyx, or MidnightDark04," growls the girl with a dark expression. Her long hair is carried by an invisible breeze, it seems.

"I'm Kathryn's twin sister, Allison, or Toxictiger18943," giggles Allison, grabbing Kathryn's hand and wrestling with her a moment before pushing her at Sky. I see the gasp and shiver when Kathryn passes through him, and suspect he feels as though he's been dunked in a bucket of ice water.

"I've been nicknamed Hel, and I am endscape_9," says the tall girl with no inflection on her words, but Jerome and I tense, with good reason: her skill rivals ours, because once she won the Hunger Games Jerome and I were winning with her bare hands by simply twisting my neck and tossing Jerome off of a high pillar.

Eve nods. "Beautiful. Now. To business." Her eyes land on me. I swallow.

"Whaddya want from me?"

Eve smiles softly. "Nothing, Mitch... But please, all of you, tell me... Have you given much thought about sisispace1?"

I gasp. "Oh fuck me!" I glance around the table, and I can immediately tell that the others have forgotten about him, too.

I literally kick down the door, run down the hall to the control room, shoo everyone out of there except for the Team and their ghosts, and begin typing.

Hunger Game Muttation Loose in City

I lean back in my chair and rub my temples, sighing. Eve's words are a welcome warning, but it has come much too late.

"We're too late," whispers Jerome, staring at the screen. Determination flickers across my face as I repeat his phrase.

"We're too late."


	3. Chapter 3

Hunger Games

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

**Disclaimer: All YouTubers belong to themselves. MineCraft is strictly property of Mojang. This is a fan-written piece and I do not profit in any way, shape, or form from writing this story.**

* * *

I can feel Eve's icy hands curling around the back of the chair as I lean further back into it, to lose myself and not face the cruel reality of what I've created. It may be selfish of me, but I suppose we are all entitled to a small bit of selfishness after dying a few times.

Ian collapses behind me, air whooshing out of him. "Wh... What do we do...?"

Jason's harsh tone surprises us all as he hisses, "We can't do shit rolling around like this. Let's go."

He grabs his jacket off of the couch (which wasn't there before... I need to talk to the recruits) and storms out, leaving nothing, and it's then that I realize: Jason had no ghost... Nothing is haunting him.

Then why... WHY does he look so scared?

[...]

I stare at the mutt. It returns a hungry stare. Guess one little doggy didn't have enough destruction for one day. I glance at a nearby news reporter, a female with a shiny blond bob who looks absolutely terrified, and say, with steely calm, "He's harmless."

Jason laughs (a little insanely), his voice a few octaves higher than normal as he says, "Harmless my ass. Mitch, look at the frickin' buildings! Look at all the people! Does this come across to you as 'harmless'?"

I snort. "Maybe."

Ty comes up next to me, his voice low. "Between you and me, we're gonna have to discuss your vocabulary definitions the next time this kind of thing happens," he mutters, before smirking and strutting away.

I simply grin before snarling at the mutt, a perfect mirror image of his reaction to me.

"Go ahead, you son of a—" Jerome slaps a paw over my mouth before I can continue, but I swat it away and finish my sentence. "Break some bones and get yourself thrown into imprisonment."

I slide my diamond sword out of its sheath, not once taking my wary gaze off of the mutt. Air hisses between my teeth as I point it at the jumble of fur. "Good doggy. Nice doggy... Or you will be if you get out of the damn city, at any rate..."

The mutt snarls before feinting to the left and leaping at me. I sidestep nimbly, taking shaky note of how long—and how sharp—those lethal, curved claws are.

Suddenly, without warning, without even a simple tense of the muscles, the mutt lunges straight at me. My eyes widen before they involuntarily screw themselves shut, leaving me willingly blind. I brace myself for the onslaught of both the impact and the pain. But it doesn't come.

I force my eyes open and find that Jason's spread-eagled position, back to me, is the sight welcoming me. I hear the muffled cry of pain as the claws dig right through the blue steel of his suit and most likely into the flesh of his chest. He says something, though, in a series of barks, snarls and growls, and the mutt whimpers before taking off. Blood spills from the holes drilled into Jason's suit, but I catch him before he collapses, and shake him for good measure. "Don't fade out on me, got it?" I hiss into his helmet, and he nods blankly.

[...]

Jason removes the helmet and suit idly before shoving black gloves onto his hands, wincing every time he moves despite the sterile white bandages wrapping around his torso. He looks up at us.

"What do you want to know?"

Quentin speaks up. "How the Nether did you speak to that mutt?"

Jason sighs heavily before tossing his thick, tangled brown hair and revealing two pointed brown wolf ears, one with a chunk taken out of it and the other with a gold piercing. He carefully tears off the finger on his gloves, boasting his dog claws. And finally, he grins at us, and something glints among his pearly whites:

His fangs gleaming in the glowstone-light.

"I'm a mutt... Or half-mutt to be more precise."

There's a terse silence as both ghost and human stare at first Jason, then Sky, then back to Jason... And sigh in relief when Sky says with concern, "How?"

Jason bites his lip, drawing blood. Swearing under his breath, he wipes away the drop of crimson and begins:

"It was a pretty average Hunger Games, and it was near DeathMatch. I had a mutt chasing me, and while the other players tried to get in a swipe at the other, I ran from the thing. The two other guys killed each other and right as the Game ended, the damn mutt bit me, kinda like a vampire. And Notch..." Jason sighs and rubs his temples. "...was that ever painful."

Sky prompts him when no further information is produced. "Abilities?"

Jason dips his head suddenly, shocking us enough to get us to leap to our feet before he starts, and looks back up. I glance around at the others nervously; Jason had serious blood loss and we had almost lost him. Should we really be questioning him...?

Jason's hoarse voice interrupts my thoughts rudely. "I... I can hear things really well and from really faraway distances. I can heal a tiny bit faster than average humans, but much more slower than demigods like Einshine." The others and I exchange a thrilled glance—we'll ask Shine about this later.

"I can run at abnormally fast paces, as well as have a ruthless desire and lust for blood. Don't worry," he hurries on when we give him horrified looks, "I only drink the blood of small animals—barely enough to satisfy me," he adds under his breath, "and only when necessary. I'm not a fully turned muttation, so I can just turn to regular human food. The suit was made by myself to disguise my walking speeds—flying around in that thing makes me feel free."

The fish says, "What about Shine now?"

Jason looks surprised. "You guys didn't know? He's a half-god."

Ian makes a strangled noise. "He's the son of Notch?"

Jason gives us a sad smile. "The hazel eyes are just for show. He's...

He's the son of HeroBrine."

[...]

I stare at the giddy, overenthusiastic boy in front of us. His shaggy brown hair and pale skin don't really give his father any credit, but I've learned not to judge by looks.

He's wearing a suit, as though he's attending a business meeting, and he's squirming like there's not enough room to jump through the ceiling.

"I heard you asked for me, Sir?"

That's right, I think inwardly. He's Sky's subordinate.

Sky nods and clears his throat. "Shine..." He begins.

Einshine grips the edges of the table, hard. "Is it about the mutt in the city? I'll do anything to help!"

"...It's about your father, Shine."

He freezes, then something strange happens. His suit and tie melt away, revealing a casual red-and-white-striped t-shirt and blue shorts. His cape, blue with a butter sword, is fluttering lazily, as though being carried by an invisible breeze. There is a black bandanna over his eyes with holes cut out for them, and instead of the familiar hazel eyes so like our God Notch's:

His eyes are a brilliant silver, gleaming eerily in the gloom of the moonlit room.

"What do you want?" His voice has changed, as well; instead of the cheerful, clumsy attitude, it is cold, stony, with a deadly undertone. "I have houses to grief, games to hack. In fact, I have a date with Aimee to ravage a nearby town..." He cracks his neck and gives us an impatient glare.

Sky swallows and says, "How come you never told us you were—"

Einshine laughs, and we all jump. We have never heard him laugh like that; it was usually a gleeful chuckle, but now, it is chilling.

"Would you have told your boss you were a spawn of HeroBrine if they didn't exactly take kindly to Seto's sorcerer abilities?" Seto winces as though Shine has punched him in the gut, but the demigod continues ruthlessly: "No, I was smart enough to figure out that I was either gonna be exiled, or killed, and I wasn't willing to risk that with such a large prize in my hands."

He looks at me, then Ty, then Sky, before offering us a creepy smile and starting again: "You see, much like my good friend Keres, I feed upon souls, and you have such strong ones..." He sighed. "Unfortunately, I foolishly promised Ker that she could have Mitch—" here he points at me. "—and Ty and that if I broke my word, it would be a free-for-all for the rest of you."

He completely ignores our shivers and squeaks at the prospect of being in the presence of someone who is practically viewing us as a very tasty meal. He's really nothing like what we thought he was...

There's a bang of an opening door, and we all jump, excluding Shine. Two girls stand there: one with two long turquoise ponytails reaching her knees, and a girl with Void-like wings.

"Shiiiiiine~" whines the girl with turquoise hair. "You had me a date!"

Einshine stands up immediately and walks over to peck her cheek. "Sorry, Aimsie girl. I was busy..." Here he shoots us a glare, but frowns when Jason makes a snarling noise. It only lasts a second.

"_You_ told them," he says lightly to Jason.

"Well, you're the one who's been dropping hints about me to them all year," replies Jason airily. Einshine scowls before turning around and kissing Aimee passionately. Several of the others in the room, including me, squirm. I'm certain they're only doing it to make us uncomfortable.

The girl with the wings clears her throat, and Einshine and Aimee break apart, looking torn that their moment has been popped like a soap bubble.

"Shine, Aims, save the romance for later, please. I may be able to throw up in the middle of a burning town, but in a room full of desirable souls? Not so much," says the winged girl, in a warning tone. Aimee pouts.

"You're no _fun_, Keres..."

"I was not Spawned for _fun_," says Keres coldly, almost spitting the word out. "I was Spawned to kill things."

Ian flinches.

Keres ruffles her wings and smirks. "Let's go, Shine. We can deal with the morons later."

* * *

**A/N: So much shorter than all my other shit.**


	4. Chapter 4

Hunger Games

* * *

Chapter Four

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**Disclaimer: All YouTubers belong to themselves. MineCraft is strictly property of Mojang. All else unclaimed in this FanFiction belongs to myself. This is a fan-written piece and I do not profit in any way, shape, or form from writing this story.**

I crouch at the edge of the roof. I learned the habit from my seventeenth Hunger Games, finally realizing my losses came from my inability to run at the slightest provocation of the threat. In every encounter in the Hunger Games, all is a fight-or-flight situation, and for me, in the old days, I always chose flight, knowing it would help me survive just a little bit longer.

Now, of course, my perch just reminds me of how many people I've killed.

Jerome collapses next to me. "Lemme guess what you're thinking about," he says in a serious tone. "Imagining all the people you've killed in the Hunger Games, amirite?"

I swallow and force my head to move up and down. Jerome knows me too well to be fooled.

I met Jerome in my first Hunger Games. He asked in general in the chat who wanted to be partners, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to have an ally or two.

As it turned out, that duo still remains true to this day.

Jerome smiles, though the spark that normally accompanies it in his dark eyes is missing. "I've been thinking about the same thing. All those people, with no solidity to themselves..."

He shakes his head. "I sound like a depressed person."

"Whoa," I say, holding up my hands. "Watch out, we got a... fat bacca over here...?"

Jerome laughs at my loss for words. "Bacon!"

"Yeah, bacon!"

"Haha!"

"'Hey, guys, watch out, we got a bacon over here!'"

[...]

The ink seems to curl and bloom around the page of its own accord, my hand simply following its lead. When I step back to admire my handiwork, I instantly know that what I have created strikes a nerve for everyone on the Team.

I have created Nekasha.

She was the one Jason loved more than anything, and whom he would have killed for. If she had said it... He probably would have killed us, too.

I scowl and crumple the paper.

[...]

Eve gazes out the window, a perplexed look on her translucent face. Kaitlyn joins her, her expression tense.

Seto sits wedged between me and Ty. The latter watches me apprehensively, his scarlet eyes trained on Seto, but I show no signs of negativity towards them.

Seto knows everything. He can be anything, and nothing. He is knowledge, he is power; he is cunning, he is manipulation.

And yet all he is now is the afraid, the prey.

I sigh a bit, and Seto flinches.

That in itself shows me how much I hurt him. Ty just glares.

Jerome pokes his head out of the infirmary, his expression somewhat relieved, somewhat upset.

"He's... Fine... For now."

I bite my lip at the "for now" part. Just what has Ross done to Jason?

Our question is answered when we see Jason for ourselves.

His breathing shallow and his skin clammy, it is surprising that none of us run out screaming—he looks like the Nether.

His pale eyes crack open, staring at us. He then says in barely a whisper, "Mitch."

I shuffle closer and kneel next to the bed, unsure of what he wants. But he weakly clutches my wrist, his pale hand shaking, and hisses hoarsely, "Kill him. Do what you're going to do, and I'll live."

That is the only explanation I get before we are ushered out of the room by a hassled doctor, whom we fiercely interrogate after we exit.

"I can't say exactly," he says in a guarded tone. "This is my first patient like this... So I cannot tell. But... I know this for certain. If he'd been a normal human, he'd've died already."

I close my eyes. Only killing Ross will save him now.

But how I will find Ross is a different question.

Sky gives me an empty, wry smile. "No pressure, Mitch, but this time, it's not only your ass that you're saving. You have two lives to watch after now—Jason's and yours. The Aether be with you."

[...]

Ross was always an artist.

Not the kind with a brush and paint, the streaks of color everyone would admire. No, Ross is a master of his craft in terms of life. He is a killer, a taker of lives, and exists for the sole purpose of inflicting death upon those he deems deserving of it.

A god of death. That is what he was made for.

And now I see just what the extent of it is.

Jerome scowls as he stares at the screens, wincing at the brutality of the rampage Ross has left behind.

"He's gonna wreck the city at this rate," whispers Eve, her immaterial fingers clenching the back of my chair.

I almost laugh. "What gave that away?"

I'm almost surprised at my tone of voice. It is a slightly higher pitch, and has a throaty touch. Eve, too, looks surprised, and lightly touches my shoulders.

"Mitch," she says gently, "I think you ought to get some rest."

I swallow. "Yeah... Yeah, I'll go do that."

And as I leave, I hear Jerome say faintly, "If he keeps going the way he is, he's gonna kill himself."

Eve replies to him, "Maybe that's what the mutt wants."

[...]

A lone, slim figure crouches at the edge of a roof. It is the solid gold roof of the Team Crafted Headquarters, and she knows exactly who her target is. She spots a young man, with bleary eyes and messy brown hair, staggering to his room, and grins.

Soon, everything will fall into place... And then we can begin.


	5. AN-TEMP HIATUS

Alright, so it's Nightmare Flame, with big information, if anyone still cares to listen...

Hybrids to Humans will be rewritten! YAAAAAY

Seriously, I just reread it and thought of killing myself, it was terrifying.

ItsMyIceCream428's OCs Amber and Mira will still be featured for her being such a dear friend and putting up with me :))

Hybrids to Humans will still remain on my page, though it will be labeled "Hybrids to Humans: Old" to ward off newcomers. It will also be labeled unfinished because it is not. (Wow, state the obvious Nightmare...)

Hunger Games and Playing God will be put on temporary HIATUS while HtH is rewritten.


End file.
